


till death do us part

by ficteer



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Choking, M/M, Murder, Soulmates, Suicide, rated for death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficteer/pseuds/ficteer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s okay, Mihashi,” Abe whispered, hands reaching up to cup the tear-streaked cheeks above him. “Just breathe.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	till death do us part

The first time it happened, his hand lingered outside the cupboard, tongue heavy for a flavor he didn’t understand. He stared at the array of foods and groceries, and slowly the fog of confusion was replaced with a low, dark fear. 

“Taka? The jam?” 

Mihashi’s voice was as hesitant as the hand between his shoulder blades, as comforting and as inquisitive as the lilt on the edge of the blond’s tone. Abe’s eyes slowly looked over to meet eyes that were as golden as the matching rings on their hands. 

“It’s starting,” he said.

\----------

It had been a hot summer morning the first time Abe stole a kiss from Mihashi. 

Even now, he could close his eyes, and the smell of the Nishiura outfield hadn’t changed, the sound of cleats running around the dirt and the sound of bats making hits as clear as it had been then, there from where he’d been lingering behind the dugout with a bush poking his thigh and his pitcher’s lips beneath his own. Each of the wet noises as their mouths brushed together, curious and inexperienced but so sure, so positively sure that this was how it was supposed to be. Mihashi’s fingers had tangled in his hair and knocked his cap to the ground, tugging Abe the one step closer until he was pinning Mihashi to the fence, caressing a throat as soft as the lazy clouds in the sky above them with trembling hands.

Even now, he remembered how warm Mihashi had been.

\----------

He got Mihashi’s text just after one about where to meet. His phone vibrated noiselessly and unnoticed in the side pocket of his bag where it rested in the dugout, message unread until half past four when he barely had enough time to shower and change into his suit to make it in time. The team had been excited practice had ended early. Years of catching had given him quite the poker face when he needed one.

Tajima and Hanai’s conversation had been quiet, unusually so, that day. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, passing Hanai’s classroom on his way to meet Mihashi out by the front gate for lunch. He was always yelling at Tajima not to be so obnoxious in the halls, after all, and despite themselves they did manage to have serious conversations once in a while. Abe had gone to lunch as if it had been just another day, come back, and returned home that evening to a warm meal and a quick bath before curling around Mihashi for the night.

Staring down at the dirt, Abe wondered if he should have expected it, if there were signs he had missed, if his heart had skipped a beat the next afternoon in the middle of practice and he’d dismissed it as part of keeping up with the team. He reached over and clenched Mihashi’s hand in his own, threading their fingers together until their palms were chilled together, sharing what little bit of warmth was left between them. Before them lay several days before the school reopened, several days to sit together on the couch in silence, staring at a television that wasn’t on and seeing baseball games that would never again be the same.

_“I’ve always been falling for you_ ,” Hanai quoted, face as empty as the memory of a grin in the aching silence that followed. And then, his jaw tightened in perfect time with pale fingers on a page of notes.  _“Help me fall one last time._ ”

\----------

Three months later, two weeks since Hanai had returned to work, Mihashi visited Abe in his office. The bento in his hands found a comforting home on Abe’s bookshelf, crowding in Abe’s space until Abe’s hands rested on Mihashi’s hips, forehead coming forward to press against Mihashi’s as his eyes closed. He exhaled in count with the fingers pressing into his biceps, tender lines invisible on his shirt up to his jawline. He took the warmth Mihashi was offering, let his thumbs slip into belt loops as he tugged, pushed, guided, until papers fluttered in the air and pens scattered like water from his desk onto the floor, Mihashi’s legs spreading and hooking on the back of Abe’s thighs to pull him close. 

“Takaya,” Mihashi breathed, hands tracing into his hair, leaving shimmering lines lingering beneath his skin. He bent forward, lips trailing over Mihashi’s slowly flushing skin, heartbeat in perfect rhythm with Mihashi’s pulse beneath his fingertips where he cupped Mihashi’s throat, tilting him back. “Takaya.” It was a plea more than his name, a word with a novel inside, his voice breaking on the final syllable like an unhappy ending.

He kissed Mihashi then, crushed their lips together with an ache spiraling deep inside of him he couldn’t hold in his hands. He cupped Mihashi’s jaw, slid his tongue inside and tasted years of memories quivering like water beneath a bridge. He heard the broken noise in his ears when Mihashi clutched his shirt to pull him even closer, felt the shivering that was Mihashi’s response, and then his hand fell to Mihashi’s knee, fingers flirting with the back before he drew him closer, a wordless request Mihashi’s tangled legs around his hips said he was all too eager to fill.

The knocking at his door had him breaking the kiss with a reluctance he hadn’t felt since he signed the agreement to coach at Nishiura, body tight with tension as his sharp breath filled the space between them.

“Abe, it’s me,” Hanai’s voice said through the door, probably the only voice that would have Abe blinking his eyes to try and get the golden haze free from his vision. Sensing the moment was over, Mihashi slid off his desk, clearing his throat and tugging his clothes back into place before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Come on in,” Abe replied, snagging Mihashi’s hand and placing his lips on the soft skin that was moist with the proof of their kiss. 

\----------

“Abe, can I talk to you for a sec?” 

Abe scowled despite the fact that he knew Izumi couldn’t see his expression through the cell phone, unease slipping through his whole body at the tone of his friend’s voice. “Yeah, sure, what’s up?” he said, turning the pen on its cap as he tapped it on the table next to where he’d been putting together practice schedules. When Izumi’s breath was all that answered his question, his pen stopped. “Izumi?”

“Has it… has it started for you?” he asked, voice low and murmured into the phone. Abe wondered if he was in his and Nishihiro’s apartment or in a place where he didn’t want to be overheard. “It started for me, this morning. The first one.”

Abe felt his eyes fall to the place where Mihashi sat next to him, making a shopping list as he nibbled on the end of his own pen, curling his hair around his finger while he thought. The blond was bouncing his foot rhythmically beneath the table, probably playing a song back in his head if the low humming Abe could just barely make out was any indication. Another reminder of how their apartment was never quiet, not really. A slow grip tightened on his heart, causing his pulse to quicken.

“I thought so… It’s about time, isn’t it? It’s not… it’s not too early. …Is it?”

“It’s always too early,” Abe responded, memorizing every curl of Mihashi’s hair with a grip of fear.

\----------

The next time he saw Suyama, he and Mihashi gave their condolences and got a strained smile in response. Oddly enough, it had been Mihashi who noticed, whispering in his ear, later, that Suyama’s right hand was bright red, almost as if he hadn’t stopped scrubbing it ever since.

\----------

“I talked to Oki-kun, and… they decided to let it go,” Mihashi said between bites of his sandwich, sitting prettily across from him at their cafe table despite the darkness lingering at the back of Abe’s throat. “Too many already…”

“Yeah,” Abe said, not in agreement but to let Mihashi know he was listening, because Mihashi had always needed that confirmation that his voice was heard, that Abe was paying attention. He chewed slowly on his rice, eyes trailing over Mihashi’s throat where there was the line of a silver chain necklace Abe had never seen before. He swallowed, about to open his mouth to ask when the waitress came by, filling up his glass of water with a cheery smile. 

“I was wondering… if we could play catch ball tonight,” Mihashi asked, twisting his chopsticks nervously in his hold, and Abe looked one last time to the strange necklace and the tiny glitter of gold around his throat before he nodded.

“Yeah, sure.” Because Mihashi always needed confirmation for when Abe was listening.

\----------

The first time he walked in on Suyama and Hanai, it would have been funny, maybe, if he wasn’t Abe Takaya. But he was, and perhaps even worse was the way the two quietly moved into an undecorated apartment together within the week, inviting Abe and Mihashi over for dinner since they lived so close. Suyama was cooking in the kitchen, oddly quiet for all that Abe seemed to remember him humming while he cooked, like Mihashi did, Hanai leaning against the wall with tired eyes.

“Getting by,” Hanai had said in a strained voice as an answer to Mihashi’s innocent question, hands clenching his biceps as tightly as they’d clutched the eulogy, as tightly as Abe’s fingers were in Mihashi’s, trying to clench around the oddly naked feeling around them. “We’re getting by.”

\----------

It was a quiet Tuesday evening, Abe sitting, arm over Mihashi’s shoulders where the blond was curled into his side as they sat together on the couch. Mihashi was messing around on his tablet, looking up recipes for some kind of multi-tiered chocolate cake that looked absolutely delicious and wouldn’t have been out of place in a super formal event. 

The commercials ended and the news finally came back on, showing that the rain was going to continue for another couple of days before finally evening out into the summer heat. He let his fingers come up, playing with the soft tendrils of Mihashi’s hair as he abandoned watching in favor of the warmth at his side, infinitely more interested in the smell of Mihashi’s shampoo beneath his nose as he nuzzled close and pressed a gentle kiss to the temple beneath bangs he brushed aside with a murmured ‘I love you’. 

He’d missed that first broadcast of the report, but he saw the clip a few days later after getting the call, watching it on his phone before he sighed and went to see if he needed to go to the dry cleaners and wondering what flowers Izumi would have liked best.

\----------

“I’m scared,” Mihashi whispered, voice quivering in the darkness of their bedroom where they sat across from one another, cross-legged and close. Abe wondered if this was how they’d had their first kiss, shy and whispered like this. He kind of wanted it to have been on the baseball field, though, where they’d first met, where he’d first caught the pitch that had stolen his heart as much as his breath. “I’m really scared.”

“I know,” he responded, leaning forward and nuzzling his forehead against Mihashi’s. The blond leaned into the touch, rubbing their noses together as their breaths mingled, years of practice for what it felt like to be this close and to know exactly how much the other was shivering from it. “I’m scared too.”

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can…” Mihashi started, voice breaking and lips pulling into a grimace. “Why do I have to be the one who…?”

“You’re stronger than I am,” Abe whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of the lips he knew so well, memorizing the feel of them in case he needed to remember. “I couldn’t do it. I can’t do it. But you can. You can do it.” He waited, watched as another trail of tears slid down Mihashi’s cheeks, shoulders shaking as he hiccuped loudly. Abe swallowed. “We don’t have to. We can just forget.”

“I d-dont… want to forget,” Mihashi sobbed, right hand raising to press at his eyes. “I don’t want to forget, but I… I don’t want to…! Not… Not…” He sobbed harder, his other hand coming up as he curled forward into Abe’s chest. “What’s… your name?”

Abe blinked up at the ceiling, the claw of ice gripping his stomach until he felt sick. “You can do it,” he responded, hands lifting to press at Mihashi’s shoulders. “You can remember. It won’t hurt.”

“It already hurts,” Mihashi said into the blackness. 

Abe leaned back, and Mihashi followed, coming forward until he was straddling Abe’s hips, leaning forward so his hands could rest on Abe’s chest. They were shaking, wet from Mihashi’s tears and the cold sweat evident all over his skin. They stared, and Abe felt his throat tighten to the point of pain.

“Do it, now. I don’t want to forget anything else,” he said, voice catching on the knot in his breath and breaking. “Do it. Please. Please. Mihashi, please.”

When Mihashi’s hands touched his throat, they weren’t soft. They were as calloused as the day they’d first touched, that bright summer morning behind a dugout, long years ago before Abe knew what magic was. He swallowed thickly, eyes burning as he felt the last smile come onto his face. “Mihashi… smile for me?”

The blond choked out a horrible noise, sniffling and nodding his head, and the pressure started, softly at first, then more, increasing until it stopped, Mihashi shaking above him.

“It’s okay, Mihashi,” Abe whispered, hands reaching up to cup the tear-streaked cheeks above him. “Just breathe.”

On a wail, Mihashi clenched his hands at last, and Abe felt the last bit of air suck out of his lungs. He left his hands on Mihashi’s cheeks, on Ren’s cheeks, Ren, his beautiful Ren who he’d kissed behind the baseball dugout, Ren whose wedding band was on a silver necklace around his neck, Ren who had held his hand as they bought sweet strawberry jam, Ren who had baked the chocolate cake at their wedding and fed it to him with the bright grin he was wearing now, tears in his eyes then, too, his beautiful, beautiful Ren, with soft curls that Abe could just faintly feel flirting around his fingers, now. He’d miss the feel of that pitching hand pressed against his in the night. He remembered it all.

Abe closed his eyes and wondered if Ren heard his last, silent laugh.

 

****

**Author's Note:**

> based off of [this](http://spiderjockey.tumblr.com/post/91277093285/soulmate-au-where-only-your-soulmate-can-kill-you). i got to wondering, 'but why would your soulmate kill you?' and then i thought, huh, what if, as time went by, you slowly started forgetting them, one piece at a time? what if breaking the bond let your other half keep those memories? would you rather die happy, or live and forget?
> 
> and the deaths since it was a little unclear: tajima asked hanai to push him off the top of the school building where they met so he could see the baseball field one last time. sakaeguchi had suyama pull a chair out from him while he hung himself, and suyama held his hand until sakaeguchi died, hence why he washes his hand so much. izumi told nishihiro to shoot him in the heart, but nishihiro couldn't do it until izumi held the gun for him and put his finger on the trigger. suyama and hanai live an empty life together, trying to use each other to forget. oki and mizutani eventually forget about each other completely. everyone else continues on, holding onto the memories that they regained the moment their partners died. Wow! what a happy ending ahahahhaha


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